


Of Flowers and Prison Bars

by YourKnightOfRage



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9962729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourKnightOfRage/pseuds/YourKnightOfRage
Summary: Kanaya's balcony faces one Rose Lalonde's cell, as one waters her flowers the other's words allow love to bloom, but flowers have many meanings and some even warn you of danger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hollo, I am back from a long absence, raise your hand if you didn't miss me?
> 
> So, this is essentially Murubutu's song Anna e Marzio so credit to him for the story and for getting me to write (and finish a story) in forever. Please check his song out when you get the chance.
> 
> Welp! See you at the end for more notes!

Kanaya looked at her flowers like a mother does her childern, under the warm glow of the sun her balcony was a pensile garden between lime trees and walls of red brick.

Since her love, Vriska had left her for an other, she'd been living alone in that apartment in the city's center, in front of the old convent now turned into a prison.  
She'd lost the desire to look into herself for a hope as she dreamt of a new time, a new dawn.

Kanaya Maryam, who lost something each day, dreamt of a new love which would chase away the fear of diying alone.  
\---

Rose arrived at noon in a May afternoon;   
She'd been transfered by one Regina Coeli in the fourth sector and suddently, for Kanaya, it was wonder.

Rose caught Kanaya's eye as she was watering her dahlias: her lavander hair showed their roots and yet she smiled at the guards even from behind her bars.

Rose Lalonde, daughter of a scientist she'd been a writer, a florist and especially a thief.  
A thief, she said, of things and hearts;

"I've spent my best years after women and flowers".

Oh, how Kanaya loved listening to her. Never seeming to pay attention, when watering her own flowers even more would kill them, she had come to water the scotch brooms in front of her house to hear the other's stories.

"If a house's eyes lay in it's windows, well, yours, my dearest, cry each day"

Rose loved to entertain her, she'd charm her for hours, interlacing words with patience and maestry she looked like an actress in action, a female Adonis behind rusty bars.  
And Kanaya, oh she would listen for hours on end, until the sun stretched the shadows far enough for them to consume the sky.

"Do you want to trust me? Yes, I've made my mistakes, but I know now what I want, who I want."

At times Kanaya would walk down to the other's window, picking up the violets.  
She didn't speak to Rose Lalonde, whose sight reminded her of calendulas, but Kanaya listened. Her ear picked up every syllable, every breath, every time the other's tongue gently wet her lips.  
Her eyes focused on choosing only the most beutiful of the blue flowers.

"Do you know how many flowers there are? Just as many as lonely hearts.  
Oh Gods, I have seen so many...   
Come with me, I'll show you them. Will you come with me?"

Here she'd stop, hold her breath as she bit her lower lip, her lips, her lips spread in a malicious smile waiting for an answer that she'd always get.  
Kanaya would finally turn to her, their eyes meating like they only could when the brunette came down from her balcony.

And only then would Rose touch the bars.  
Other times? She didn't see them, looking as if she was there of her own will, as if she were as free as anyone alse, or even more than that, but.

But when their eyes met this close her left arm gripped the iron and pulled her body to the stone wall.  
Their eyes fixed on one another, the lavander haired girl barely blinked as she spoke anew:

"Come with me. I want to show you where the world blooms. With me amongst Holland's tulips with the smell of lavander around us, between rare buds and France's rose gardens, will you come with me?"

Her lips smiled and her voice laughed in her words, expressing the joy derived from the thought.  
Such a joy she couldn't hold back and only then was she left breathless as she completed her question.

"Through giant scotch brooms and intense rhododendrons. Hand in hand in the Valle dei Templi to the feet of the blue mosque in Istanbul."

Kanaya wandered if those places were in the center of her own iris for the inensity with which Rose looked in them and spoke these paintings, yet, she never losed sight of the woman in front of her.

"And no-one shall divede us, my dearest, for we are two hearts together at the same time. And no one will free you of me, my dearest, for you see what I see and now? Feel what I feel"

Kanaya brought the violets home, putting them under a heavy book to dry, the next day she planted calendula seeds at the sides of her favourite window, she knew she would face no consequences, what harm could she do with some pretty flowers?

A year and then an other passed and Rose's time was nearly served, in the month of March, as outside nights were getting longher she told her Giuliet:

"Wait for me tomorrow evening, I'll be out for dinner."

The sheer joy made Kanaya's lips laugh and her eyes weep.   
That day she looked for her favourite clothes and picked amongst them; she arrived right on time with high black heels, a red turtleneck dress which highlighted her waist with a black belt and red gloves which went above her elbows.

 

She wore a beautiful smile as she waited under a fig which had bloomed early.

 

She was a patient woman and that was well known amongst her aquietances, yet, not even herself would have expected her to be quite so patient:  
When the sun rose he met her still under her fig, as he kept on climbing the sky her heart grew a little heavier.

After such a long wait she thought she at least deserved to know the reason behind such an absurd turn of events, that desire brought her to write to the gaol, the letter presented in a clear calligraphy the name of one Rose Lalonde describing her likelines and story, asking for information on the before mentioned's release or current whereabouts.

What she recieved as an answer was a rushed letter which read:

《My dear Lady,

There has never been such Rose Lalonde in here.  
Singed: Director Regina Coeli.》

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello there! Ok, firstly, I also published this on my Tumbrl @yourknightofvoid just wanna put it out there.
> 
> ALSO, I hope you enjoyed this and if you have any suggestion as to how improve it I'm all ears (seriously, I think something went terribly wrong with the fabric of reality, mu whole body is made out of ears, I am typing this with tiny ears please help me)
> 
> And, if you would like to leave a tiny little comment it would mean a LOT to me and hey
> 
> Thanks.


End file.
